


To Trust is Not to Falter

by backtothestart02



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: 2.05, 2x05, Alternate Ending, Angst, F/M, Fix-it fic, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 20:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14505192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backtothestart02/pseuds/backtothestart02
Summary: 2x05 - alternate ending - Francis confesses to Mary that Narcisse is blackmailing him.





	To Trust is Not to Falter

**Author's Note:**

> My first Reign (and frary!) fic, but I had to do it. I started the show left & so had only seen a handful of the episodes from the first two seasons. I saw a lot of SCENES, but now I'm going through and watching all the episodes. After seeing 2x05 and 2x06...and knowing how incredibly angsty and awful season 2 continues to be until almost the end of it, I had to take action and comfort myself with a fix-it fic when the angst was still light enough to be fixed in a single scene. I was going to have it take place in the last frary scene of 2x06, but since the 2x05 scene was more emotionally powerful, I opted for that one instead. My fic takes place about halfway through the scene, and a good chunk of the scene is in this story word-for-word too. You should be able to tell where the show ends and I begin if you're familiar with the scene though. ;)
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> *Many thanks to sendtherain for beta'ing and my frary friend, hamaheaven (on tumblr) for giving this a read through to make sure it was all realistic and in-character. You guys are the greatest!

“There is something else going on.”

A frustrated sigh slipped out of him as he turned back to the fireplace, staring down into the flames with an intensity that did nothing to calm the storm inside of him; the need for her to just _stop talking_. What he wouldn’t give to just miniaturize himself enough to go down into that fiery pit, to cease to exist because then he wouldn’t have to make awful choices that went against everything he believed in. Everything Mary believed in.

He wouldn’t feel weighed down every moment of every day for the foreseeable future, not knowing if that day would be his last if Narcisse grew tired of blackmailing him and decided to take pleasure in a riot and execution instead, Mary’s head on a pike beside him as he’d foretold.

Worst possibly than all of that is that playing the puppet to Narcisse’s strings, Francis would become a mirror image of his father, tearing the country apart in violence based off on the whims of a Catholic noble who thought he knew best.

“Lately you’ve been…distant…”

And then there was that.

“…acting as though you’re haunted by something…”

He turned back around.

She knew him. She knew him _so well_. Everything inside of him screamed to just _tell her_. Who could he trust more than Mary with his deepest, darkest secrets, with the worst side of himself? No one. Bash, maybe, but he didn’t want to endanger either of their lives by forcing them to carry the burden that weighed him down every day. He already felt guilty for killing his own father, despite his conviction that it was absolutely necessary. Narcisse’s blackmail intensified his emotions in ways he couldn’t even begin to imagine.

“I need peace…and quiet…” he muttered under his breath, walking past her.

But she would not be silenced.

“You need to _trust_ me, to share things with me.”

He trusted her with his _life_. But with this? How could he share this with her knowing her life might be the cost of the knowledge he bestowed upon her?

“Not everything can be solved by talking, by love, by _you_. There are things we cannot change, that cannot be undone; things that I don’t tell you to protect you.”

Her voice rose as she tossed the item in her hand to the side in her frustration.

“Protect me from _what_?”

She was relentless.

“Your death!”

The words silenced her. All he could see was that intense, confused, shocked look in her eyes, and all he could hear was her heavy breathing filling the space between them. His fingers tingled. Her skin warming and then cooling as he stared right back at her until she gathered enough thought to speak again.

It was all about to come undone.

“What are you talking about?” she asked carefully.

“Mary, please,” he begged, tears welling in his eyes.

“Francis.”

She came to him and clutched his arms.

“Don’t make me say any more, please.”

“You have to tell me, Francis.” He shook his head, unable to form words. “You have to tell me, or the distance will grow between us, the country will fall apart. Your decision tonight cannot be undone but future poor decisions can be prevented.”

“I can’t,” his voice broke. “I can’t lose you.”

“Who has threatened me?” she demanded.

Her voice alternating between soft and imploring, between the whispers of his wife and the firm demands of his queen, told him he was going to tell her. He couldn’t think of another thing to tell her to throw her off course.

“Narcisse.”

Her eyes widened, and she released him.

“This is further punishment then? For what I did to his son?”

“He is not just trying to punish you or me. He is trying to rule France with me as his puppet.” He pushed his hair out of his face, frustrated and desperate and scared.

“How can he do this? We can imprison him just for the threat alone.”

Francis’ shallow breathing finally led way to the devastating truth.

“He is blackmailing me.”

“With _what_?”

Mary was nearly delirious with her impatience, but it was impossible for him to speed up what he needed to say. It was so hard. He felt like he was ordering her death sentence with every breath he took.

“With the truth of my father’s death.”

Mary paused, her brows furrowed in confusion. She folded her arms against herself. Francis couldn’t look at her.

“But Montgomery killed Henry.”

Francis squeezed his eyes shut to prevent the tears from flowing and turned away from her. He clutched their bedpost and slowly sat down on the bed.

“No, he didn’t.”

Mary made her way to him and stood in front of him, waiting.

“What do you mean?” she asked gently, and he wanted to fall into her, let her hold him, just live in that moment for eternity so he wouldn’t have to face the world again.

Instead, tears streaming down his face, he looked up at her.

“I killed him.”

Her eyes widened.

“Francis.”

He swallowed hard.

“He had gone mad.” He shook his head, remembering his anger and grief when he’d shouted his explanation at the play-acting nanny Narcisse had hired to torment him. “He was going to kill me, so he could marry you, and then kill you, so he could rule France and England and Scotland – all of it!” He took a slow deep breath and looked at her. “I couldn’t let him do it, Mary. It was the only way, I couldn’t…”

She came and sat down next to him on the bed, shock reverberating through her.

“So, after Catherine and I…”

“Yes.”

She took a slow, deep breath.

“And how does Narcisse come to know of this? Did anyone see you?”

“He has Montgomery.”

“But there is no evidence it was you.”

With an effort of will, he pushed himself off the bed, crossed the room to grab the bloody piece of wood delivered to him earlier, and held it out to her.

“Is this…?” She held her hand out hesitantly, and he gave it to her.

“Yes.”

“Oh, my God.” She turned to him when he sat back down beside her. “But still, there’s no way for this to prove you’re the killer. Even Montgomery’s words are nothing against the King’s. How did Narcisse know for sure?”

“The nanny.”

She straightened. “What about her?”

He sighed, tucking some of the wild locks behind his ear.

“He paid her to pretend to be my father.” Her disbelieving look pushed him to continue. “To pretend to be possessed by him, but only when I was alone with her.” Reluctantly he met her gaze again. “I didn’t believe it at first, but…she knew details about my father that a commonplace nanny in the castle would not know. And with all this talk after the plague of seeing ghosts and black riders and a reckoning…I started to believe anything was possible, even my father’s ghost coming back to haunt me for killing him.”

“Oh, _Francis_.”

She placed her hand on his cheek. He let himself lean into it, feel the cool softness of it, believe in that single moment that everything was okay again.

“Finally, it got to be too much…I was so convinced that when she made the accusation…I admitted to it, and conveniently – _conveniently_ …” He lifted his head to look away, disgusted, infuriated by how he’d been manipulated and deceived. “Narcisse was in the room when it happened. I should have killed him on the spot, but I…” His shoulders slumped. “I didn’t want to be like my father.” He fisted his hand resting on his knee.

Mary covered her hand over his, willing him to relax with her there beside him.

All emotion left his voice.

“I ordered the guards to take the nanny to the infirmary and make sure she didn’t leave, but Narcisse went there later and had her released. Now he has Montgomery and the nanny to use against me. Even if we insist it is a baseless rumor…people may still believe it. I’m sure many would. The truth means nothing when people would rather believe the lie.”

Mary sighed and pulled him toward her, resting his head against her neck and taking his weight when he leaned into her.

“I’m so sorry, Mary…so sorry. I didn’t tell you because if it ever came to light, I wanted you to be able to say honestly that you didn’t know. Then only I would be executed because you would have no part in it.”

She closed her eyes at the words, at his reckless selflessness and need to keep her safe.

“Shh…it’s okay,” she soothed, rubbing her hands down his arms, over his curls, his cheeks, holding him to her.

After a long while, he lifted his head to look into her eyes, tears still streaming down damp cheeks.

“I’ve sentenced you to death.”

“No.” She cupped his face, holding it in place, forcing him to look her in the eyes and not look away. “You’ve been honest with me. If Catherine and I had killed Henry, you would have known because you found out.” She attempted a smile, but it didn’t last. “We would be in the same predicament now if that had been the cause of his death.”

He swallowed hard.

“I’m glad you told me, Francis. We will fight this together. We will beat Narcisse.”

“But _how_?” His voice faded in the last breath of his question.

“I don’t know yet,” she said, a tremulous smile back on her lips. “But whatever the future brings, what’s most important is that we face it together. You said that, remember?”

He nodded slowly.

“No matter what comes up against us, I will fight at your side. I will not leave you. You just have to let me.”

“I love you, Mary,” he said, watching her as she wiped his tears away.

“I love you, too, Francis,” she returned. “I always will.” She took a breath. “We may not have a solution now, but we will find one.” She stroked his face, gently brushing her fingertips over his golden locks.

"I understand now why you acted the way you did today, but if he corners you again, we will fight it. And if we must cave to his wishes until we can find a way to undermine it, then we shall do so together. We may falter as King and Queen in the beginning of our reign, but as long as we stay united as husband and wife, nothing will stand in our way.” She leaned forward and smiled genuinely. “We will be unstoppable.”

He nodded, the hint of acceptance of hope in the brief squint of his eyes when he tried his best to smile at her.

“Thank you, Mary.”

She softened, a smile on her lips as she closed the last bit of distance between them with a gentle kiss. A distraction – and a much needed one at that – Mary deepened the kiss, pushing him back onto the bed and encouraging him to touch her.

There would be no more talk tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me your thoughts! Unfortunately I won't be continuing this, because I haven't the slightest idea of how Francis & Mary could've outwitted Narcisse, but I needed there to be no secrets between them for the whole season, so you're welcome. Lol.


End file.
